


you learned your holiness from flour

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Crossdressing Kink, M/M, Panty Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-08
Updated: 2014-01-08
Packaged: 2018-01-07 23:42:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1125776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time, John Watson had a girlfriend that talked him into a pair of her knickers - only somewhat metaphorically. Sherlock, of course, discovers this, and finds it a terrible distraction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you learned your holiness from flour

**Author's Note:**

> Basically shameless panty kink porn - because there's a sad lack of John Watson in lingerie. Title credit to Pablo Neruda's Sonnet XIII.

It was bloody embarrassing, that’s what it was. Although... if he really got down to the heart of it, if he stopped thinking about what his Da would have said or what people would think, it was... lovely. Good, at the very least. It was a thrill, and it felt nice, and frankly, he liked it.

Maybe it wasn’t such a surprise in that making a reputation for himself, sleeping with... a fair percentage of the women he met, John had found a couple with less than vanilla tastes. One in particular, though... She’d been a redhead, a little older than him. Her name was Haley. She had this collection of underwear that looked like it came straight out of a pin-up magazine, and one day she talked him into a pair of her panties.

It probably should have taken her a little longer, but it didn’t. She said he’d look good in them, he blushed, protested once. But she took them off, handed them over, and he put them on. They were a dark blue with white stripes, lace along the edges. They didn’t quite fit - and they definitely didn’t hide anything - but that didn’t keep him from licking his lips. She said some nice things, he went down on her, they fucked, and that night he left her dorm and went back to his own - still wearing her underwear.

The relationship didn’t last very long, but John acquired a couple of pairs while they dated. Whenever he would wrap his hand around his cock, late at night under the shade of the dark of his room, and the sheets on his bed, he didn’t always think about fucking girls anymore. Sometimes he just thought about the way his precum stained the fabric, the way it felt when his head slid against the lace as he pulled his cock out, the way it stretched over his hard on. Some nights, he came just to that.

Eventually got a little extra money from the job he worked part time - most of it went to school, or to savings, but that small percentage that once would have gone to movies or other things, he tucked away. When he had enough, he looked around online. There were shops that sold some made for men, but he liked the way his cock would slip out sometimes when he got fully hard - just the tip peeking out over the lace. He bought a few pairs in a couple colours from a shop for women, and had them sent to school. It was rare that he would wear them - and he never wore them out. Still, just knowing they were there at the back of his drawer - that he could wear them under his uniform or his jeans or whatever he wanted - it did something for him.

He never brought it up with another girlfriend, though. He was in the army, he had mates, he had a reputation to uphold - it would be putting a lot at risk if he brought it up in the short relationships he tended to have.

Then, after he came back from Afghanistan, he ended up moving in with Sherlock Holmes.

The other man was strange and impossible and gorgeous. He had a real human skull and a pretentious blog, and he had no appreciation for Doctor Who.

Still, somehow, the two of them clicked. John was sort of entranced by him, and Sherlock tried to get better at people, and they worked and ate and orbited around each other, and John tried to ignore how desperately attracted he was to his flatmate.

They’d been living together for a few months when John came back from work one day and Sherlock was in his chair staring at him, his cheeks tinged pink. John raised an eyebrow.

“What is it? Did you give yourself an acid burn on your arse or something?”

Sherlock shook his head. “I went in your drawers looking for your first aid kit. I couldn’t find it.”

That was all it took. John went as pink as Sherlock was - if not worse. “Oh. Er. It’s in the bathroom, under the sink. I moved it.”

“Oh.” John licked his lips, and he and Sherlock stayed awkwardly where they were. “It was only a papercut. For the first aid kit. I found a bandaid.”

Holding up his finger, Sherlock looked absolutely silly, and John managed to crack a smile, dissolving into chuckles. They both laughed a little, then looked away from each other finally.

“It’s perfectly normal.”

“Well, I.” Blushing again, John scratched the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t go that far. But I know it’s not the strangest fetish a man could have. And that it’s not just... a thing with men that are attracted to men.”

“That’s what I meant.” Sherlock cleared his throat, and when John glanced at him, he was flushed again. “I’m sure it suits you very nicely.”

That was definitely enough to leave John bright red. Sherlock was strange, and this conversation was strange not to mention mortifying, but that didn’t change the fact that little thoughts of Sherlock mouthing at his silk panties had been slipping into his fantasies for at least a month now.

“I guess so. S’what Haley said.” Sherlock raised an eyebrow. “Ah. I had a girlfriend. Talked me into it. But I... kept those. Bought some more.” He shrugged.

“You haven’t told your other girlfriends?”

John shook his head.

“Pity. They’re missing out.”

Sherlock took a quick leave, and John was left puzzled, flushed and half-hard.

Nothing happened until two weeks later. He came home to find Sherlock pacing, and he raised an eyebrow at him again.

“I can’t stop thinking about you in that underwear,” he blurted out. “I need to see you in them, John, it’s gotten distracting, I can hardly focus.”

John licked his lips, he blinked. For whatever reason, he wasn’t as embarrassed as he had been the last time - just still a little flushed, and definitely turned on.

“You just want... ah. To see me?”

Finally, Sherlock’s pacing stopped, and he turned to John desperately. “I don’t know.”

It was enough, and John went upstairs to his room and stripped down, then changed into one of his sexier pairs of panties. He’d almost never worn them, as they were ones he’d purchased for himself. They were red - but not bright or overbearing; lace around the top. Something about the idea of looking into the mirror made him almost lose his nerve, so he didn’t; it had been a long time, and the idea of the softness around his middle and the scar on his shoulder paired with the knickers... It was discouraging to say the least.

Slowly, hesitantly, he stepped downstairs and back into Sherlock’s line of sight, and felt the grey-blue eyes sweep over him. There was a long moment of staring, and silence.

“I was right about it suiting you. You look... lovely.”

John smiled, shyly feeling pleased. Blatant compliments on his appearance like that were sort of rare, especially from Sherlock. His hands had fallen naturally in parade rest, at his back and out of the way.

“I’m glad you think so. With you having thought about it so much, I was afraid you’d have your expectations a little too high.” He smirked slightly at Sherlock, and the other man narrowed his eyes at him.

With a step closer, Sherlock muttered, “That’s quite enough of that,” then placed his hands on John’s face and pulled him in to kiss the grin off of his lips. Pretty effective tactic, really.

Though he hadn’t realized he was tense, John relaxed a little, moving his hands into Sherlock’s hair and kissing him back thoroughly - tongue tracing the bow of his lips before sliding in between his teeth and against his tongue.

They stayed like that for just a moment before John’s hands moved again, sliding down Sherlock’s body to his hips, pulling him close. He could feel Sherlock’s cock twitch against his stomach, and it made him smirk into the kiss. That resulted in Sherlock nipping sharply at his lower lip, then pulling back just slightly. Their breaths were mingled between them.

“Shut up.”

“Didn’t say anything.” John punctuated his statement by tilting his head and kissing at the hinge of Sherlock’s jaw, tongue flicking out gently to taste the slight salt of skin.

Apparently that was the last straw for Sherlock, because he pulled John into one final kiss and dropped to his knees. In spite of the fact that he was wearing panties and nothing else in the middle of the sitting room, John could feel himself blush. He slid his fingers back into Sherlock’s curls - a past time he had a feeling was going to become a favourite.

“You don’t have to-”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I do have eyes. And it’s not as if this is the first time I’ve done anything, I was an addict.” A pause, then a huff of slight annoyance. “Stop that, I’m clean, in all manners of the word. I want to. And I know that people tend to like it. Something about the shape of my mouth.”

Sherlock knew exactly what it was about the shape of his mouth, could apparently read John’s every filthy fantasy in the heat of his gaze judging by the raised eyebrow and the stupid smirk.

The moment passed in a heartbeat with Sherlock shifting his gaze to John’s cock where the tip had left a wet spot already, and he moved in slowly, nuzzling there just gently enough to leave John cursing and tugging at his hair.

“I think perhaps you should shuffle backwards a bit.”

Somehow, even in spite of none of his blood being in his brain, John moved on instinct and leaned back when he hit a hard surface. He got rewarded for this by Sherlock tracing his tongue in a circle over the silk, just around the tip of his cock.

Head tilting back, John muttered a quiet, “Fuck,” sinking down the wall a little. Sherlock’s hands went to his hips, pushing him back gently and steadying him.

Still Sherlock mouthed at him over the knickers, feeling out the shape of him with lips and tongue, getting his knickers positively soaked with saliva and precum.

Just when John thought he might shoot off in his pants like a thirteen year old, Sherlock used his teeth to gently pull the underwear down below the base of his cock. The elastic was nestled just below his balls, and Sherlock wrapped one stupidly large, gorgeous hand around him, glancing up with a smirk of consideration.

Frankly, at this point, John didn’t much care about what Sherlock thought of his penis. He clenched one hand in Sherlock’s hair to make a point, and instead of relenting, Sherlock just chuckled before moving back in, pressing just his lips against the very tip of John’s cock.

John groaned, and Sherlock finally properly wrapped his mouth around John’s cock, tongue pressing against the underside of the head. Things became a bit of a blur after that - Sherlock’s lips looked gorgeous wrapped around his cock, the lace and red silk of the panties making a lovely backdrop. He could feel Sherlock’s tongue trace along his frenulum, catch on the ridge of the head, move as Sherlock started to suck, and then lost in the haze of pleasure and warmth and dampness and his fingers slipping against Sherlock’s scalp, he could feel Sherlock practically suck his brains out through his cock.

He might have shouted when he came, but if he did, he had no idea what. Sighing, he slid down the wall a bit more, and Sherlock gently led him down to the floor. He rested his head against his flatmate’s shoulder with a content sort of sound, and Sherlock was already leaning back against him. When he pressed his hand to the front of familiar dress trousers, they were open, damp, and slightly sticky. John turned his head and raised his eyebrows.

“You were moaning, and there was an expression on your face... Your cum was in my mouth, and I could still feel the lace and silk against the fingers of the hand that wasn’t in my pants.”

That would have been enough to make any man’s cock twitch if they hadn’t just had an orgasm seconds beforehand. John kissed him, and sighed again.

“We’ll be doing this regularly, right? Because I think I’ve been ruined for other people. That was a hell of a blowjob.” He nuzzled in a little against Sherlock’s jaw, and he could feel the muscle movement of his smile.

“That’s quite a compliment from you, with your widely varied history.”

John snorted, and nudged Sherlock with his elbow. “Hush up about my sex life. Anything before now is none of your business. Let’s go get a shower before you stick to your stupidly expensive underwear.”

Sherlock muttered, in response, “You’re one to talk.”


End file.
